


Determinant Additions and Outtakes

by Windchimed



Category: Divergent Series - Veronica Roth
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-05
Updated: 2016-06-30
Packaged: 2018-03-29 02:40:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3879028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Windchimed/pseuds/Windchimed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chapters that didn't make it into my "Determinant" or "Prior Rings" stories because they're M rated or didn't fit the story flow. I'll be adding chapters gradually, not necessarily in chronological order.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 28 of "Prior Rings" retold by Tobias – A Dauntless Date

**_A/N: This story contains miscellaneous outtakes from my "Determinant" alternate third book and from its sequel "Prior Rings."   Please read those stories before reading this one._ **

**_General Notes: 1) This story is rated M, though I don't expect it to be extremely M or MA. Most of the chapters were just a bit over the line from T, so I didn't include them in my other stories. Some will be here simply because they didn't fit into those stories' plot lines. 2) I will not necessarily be posting chapters in chronological order; if I post out of order, I'll keep the chapter at the end for a week or so to make it easier to find and will then move it to the right location._ **

_**Disclaimer: I do not own "Divergent" or "Insurgent" or "Allegiant" or the characters, dialogue, plot lines, etc. in those books. All of that belongs to Veronica Roth. Also, t** _ _**his story is only consistent with some of VR's writing ("Divergent," "Insurgent," "Free Four: Tobias Tells the Divergent Knife-Throwing Scene," and "Four: The Transfer: A Divergent Story").** _

* * *

**Chapter 28 of "Prior Rings" retold by Tobias – A Dauntless Date**

We call it a dummy, but it's really more of a person-shaped punching bag, hanging from a chain and filled with heavy sand. It's only one component of the equipment we have in our faction's exercise room, but it's the one I use the most, both for staying in shape and for practicing martial arts.

It's always a bit tricky to use it this early in the morning, while everyone else is still asleep. Typically, though, as long as I don't yell with my blows, I can get away with it.

So, I work out as quietly as I can, kicking and striking, pulling the bag to a stop between blows to reduce the noise the chain makes as it swings.

My dreams were disturbing again last night, filled with images of losing Tris in a variety of ways. I don't quite know why, since I finally have her back in my life, and we're in far less danger than we were the first time around.

I let my thoughts gel as I strike again, this time with the side of my hand to the dummy's neck. Whatever is troubling me, it's affecting me during the day, too. Tris seems fine with taking things slowly, but I know that on my side, there's an underlying reason we haven't had sex since we got back together. It's certainly not that I don't feel the desire – but something is holding me back.

Turning to the right, I deliver a side-kick into the dummy's knee with my left leg. It's the lowest point on the bag, and it swings wildly in response before I drag it to a stop.

It's entirely possible that I don't trust myself, at least not with losing that much control. Or maybe I'm afraid that I'll find out Tris was with someone else while we were apart. She would have had every right to do that, of course, but it's definitely not a thought I like. I already struggle with possessiveness and jealousy too much as it is.

My next punch drives directly into the dummy's solar plexus, and I stare at the spot for a moment before stilling the bag again. Maybe I'm afraid there will be scars from where I broke her ribs – some permanent reminder of the damage I did the last time I lost control.

Grabbing the dummy's shoulders, I ram my knee into its groin, feeling a strange satisfaction from the action. Perhaps I've developed the same fear Tris had, and I'm now scared of intimacy.

The thought draws a low chuckle out of me. Given the good dreams I've had lately, the ones that are interspersed with the nightmares, that seems more than a little unlikely. Parts of me _absolutely_ want that closeness.

Of course, part of me wanted it last time around, too, even if I was terrified of starting a relationship then. At the time, I had no idea how to be close to anyone, and I worried constantly about turning into my father. Yet somehow I found the courage to open up to Tris.

I pull the next blow at the last second, just to make sure I can, smiling as I stop a quarter of an inch from the dummy's chin.

We went through my fear landscape then. In a way, it was our first date, unless you count climbing the Ferris wheel together. In both cases, I faced my fears with her.

Maybe I should do that again….

I go with a roundhouse kick this time, causing the bag to fly backwards before spinning crazily. After all, we've faced a lot of fears together, and they always brought us closer. Especially when we conquered Tris' "extra" one, taking her down to a total of six.

We haven't had a Dauntless date yet, so I have a good opportunity to tackle something like that if I want. But exactly what would I do? We already navigated my fear landscape once, even if half of it has changed since then. And we rode the Ferris wheel a few weeks ago, now that the amusement park has reopened.

My elbow drives into the dummy's floating rib as I think through the other activities that my second faction loves. The answer comes as my hands draw the bag to a stop again.

 _Zip-lining._ It's the one Dauntless challenge I never dared to face.

Even the thought sends a chill through me. I've tackled heights more than once for Tris, but leaping off a hundred-story building – in real life – is way beyond that.

Still, there's an odd appeal to it. It might be enough to help me finally conquer that fear, not just deal with it temporarily. And that seems like a fitting thing to do with Tris…before we face other old fears together.

A smile works its way onto my face as I punch the bag one last time before heading back to my apartment to shower. I'll talk to Zeke today about setting everything up. With any luck, in a couple of weeks, my sleep won't be so disturbed anymore.

* * *

It's sunny and clear on the afternoon of our Dauntless date. I've timed it so we'll be zip-lining during the warmest part of the day, but that means it's still cold when I lead Tris to the tracks, pulling her into a run and leaping easily onto the train. She joins me effortlessly, and I can't help but smile at her strength. I will never get tired of seeing her like this.

Realistically, we don't need to take the train at all, since we live within walking distance of the Hancock building, but this will make it harder for Tris to guess where we're going – and will give me time to build up my courage. So, we ride through the city as she watches it pass by, trying to figure out what I have planned.

Eventually, she begins to fidget, and I realize that she wants to sit but isn't sure if she has time. Smiling a bit, I slide down the wall and make myself as comfortable as I can on the hard, cold floor. Tris arches a curious eyebrow at me.

"Just giving you a seat," I tell her, patting my lap. It makes her grin.

I don't quite expect what she does next. Holding my eyes challengingly, she slowly drops down onto her knees, facing me, until she's straddling my hips. My breath catches from the intensity of her presence – and the way she's rubbing right against certain parts of me – and I lose all thought as I sit up straight, my hands automatically finding their way to her back, beneath her coat.

"Where are we going, anyway?" she asks in an innocent voice, as if she's not aware of what she's doing to me.

"Really?" I manage to say. " _That's_ what you're thinking when you're in this position?" Leaning forward, I press my lips to her cheek before letting them move slowly along her jaw. She smells incredibly good. " _My_ mind is definitely on other things right now."

Her body is warm against me, and mine presses back hard in response, and I can't help but remember other times when we were together even closer than this. The memory is only accentuated when she moans in pleasure.

"That's better," I murmur as I suck the side of her neck, letting my fingers trail up her spine underneath her coat. I love being able to affect her this way – the same way she affects me.

Another moan emerges from deep in her throat, and it's all I can do to breathe, "Much better."

Our lips find each other's, and we kiss with an intensity that erases the rest of the world completely. Time is a meaningless concept in moments like this, so it shouldn't really surprise me when I catch a glimpse outside the train and realize that I almost missed our stop.

"Tris," I murmur, forcing myself to pull away. "It's time to jump."

"I thought your mind wasn't on where we're going," she responds, amused, but she begins climbing to her feet anyway.

"Trust me," I rasp, unable to take my eyes off her, "I'm tempted to loop around the city again." Rising somewhat stiffly, given how rigid certain muscles have become, I lean close to her. "But maybe we can pick this up again later?"

Her breath hitches before she whispers, "Okay."

Grinning, I launch myself from the train, and Tris follows me immediately, landing on her feet as easily as I do. As expected, the cold has eased somewhat now, with the sun high overhead, so we remove our gloves and lace our fingers together while we walk.

She doesn't ask where we're going. Either she's figured it out, or she's decided to wait and be surprised. If it's the latter, she must begin to suspect the closer we get to the Hancock building.

My reaction undoubtedly helps her guess, too, given the way my pulse is quickening and my palms are beginning to sweat. By the time we reach the entrance to the building, my heart is hammering so loudly she can probably hear it. Still, I don't slow down or let my steps falter. This is a Dauntless date, and the faction of the brave does not allow terror to get the upper hand.

The elevator looms in front of us, reminding me that I'll have to face my claustrophobia today in addition to the height, but I ignore both of those fears as I lead Tris into the tight space and press the button for the hundredth floor.

"This building is kind of an experiment," I tell her, doing my best to keep my voice steady. "Multiple factions have been rebuilding sections of it and using it for their own purposes, since it's too big for anyone to use the whole thing at this point."

"That sounds intriguing," she comments, and I can tell that she now thinks we're doing one of those other activities today. She confirms that when she adds, "What are we going to do here?"

My nerves peak at the question, knowing that this is the moment of truth. Scratching the back of my neck, I stare at the floor as I answer. "Well, it's Dauntless day. So, zip-lining."

She hesitates, and her voice is soft when she responds. "Tobias, you don't have to do that."

"I know." I drag my eyes up to meet hers. "But you conquered one of your fears for me. I want to try to do the same."

The sides of her mouth tug upwards. "I didn't conquer it _just_ for you, you know," she murmurs. "It was for both of us."

There's no way to suppress the grin that spreads across my face in response. Stepping closer, I wrap my arms around her and drop my face into her hair, breathing her amazing scent. "They have a double-harness they use for two people to go together," I murmur. "I figure that as long as I can hold you and smell you the whole time, I'll be okay."

I can feel her smile, but before she answers, the elevator doors open. Swallowing my nervousness, I take her hand again and lead her onto the hundredth floor.

Tris stops a few steps in, staring around uncertainly. It's not until she speaks that I understand why. "So much happened here," she says softly.

She's right, of course. This is where Anna first spoke to us about NUSA, and recruited us for the mission. And it's where I learned that Amar was still alive. It feels like an eternity ago.

"It did," I answer seriously.

Tris' expression is thoughtful, and I give her time to process the memories. To consider everything that started in this room, and the long path from there to our coming full circle, standing here again today. I don't particularly want to think about parts of that journey, but they're there whether I like them or not – they're part of who we are.

Eventually, she crosses the room to the ladder that leads to the roof, and I go with her wordlessly. It's easier to climb when she goes first, so I have no objection when she starts up, clearly drawn to the height.

The cold wind hits me as soon as I pull myself onto the roof, and I wrap an arm around Tris, drawing her close as much for body heat as because it helps me face the reality of being up here. Huddled together, we zip our coats and put our gloves back on while I try to pretend that we're at ground level.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" she asks.

In this moment, it's very tempting to back down, but instead I look deeply into Tris' eyes, drawing strength from her as I always have. I can get through _anything_ with her by my side.

"Yes," I say firmly, nodding to emphasize the answer.

It takes me a second to recognize the expression that she forms in response, since it's not something I've seen often in my life. _She's proud of me._ The thought sends a fire through my insides that helps to burn away the fear.

Taking her hand, I lead her over to Zeke with my shoulders square and my steps certain. He grins at us, holding up the double-harness I asked him to bring as he waggles his eyebrows at Tris.

"So," he calls over the wailing of the wind, "I hear someone would like a scenic tour of the city."

"Absolutely," Tris answers. Her tone is more quizzical when she adds, "Do you normally do this on weekends?"

"Not often, no. But I couldn't miss Four's first time zip-lining." He gives her a conspiratorial wink. "Besides, you don't really think he'd trust anyone else with your life, do you?" He's right about that.

"Well, strap us in, then," Tris tells him, looking amused, but also pleased. She meets my gaze as she asks, "Head first?" I nod. It will be equally hard for me no matter what, so she may as well pick her favorite position.

Zeke straps me into the harness first, adjusting the straps carefully and tugging at them to ensure they're solid. The entire time, I expect him to comment on how stiff I am, or to tease me about this being my "first time," but he never does. Sometimes, he's a better friend than I give him credit for being.

I watch far more closely as he connects Tris. Objectively, I know that he's better at this than I am, but I can't help double-checking every knot and seam anyway. I won't let anything happen to her.

"There are people waiting to catch you at the end," Zeke says as he gives everything a final tug before nodding in satisfaction. Moving his hand to a release that's above our heads, he adds, "This will separate Tris from the line so she can get off."

Tris reaches for it, probably instinctively, but it's too high for her, and Zeke smiles at the attempt. "Yeah, Four's going to have to do that." Turning to me, he continues in a firm voice. "Just to be clear, you're going to be in charge of a few things on this ride, Four, so pay attention or Tris could end up getting hurt."

The words immediately focus me, and I straighten as I meet my friend's gaze. "I'm listening."

Zeke nods, his expression unusually serious as he explains how to work the release switches and when to use them. I file the information carefully in my brain, repeating it to myself to make sure I won't lose it no matter how panicked the ride makes me. Honestly, I'm glad of the distraction when he leads us to the edge of the roof. It's almost impossible to keep my hammering heart from taking over the closer we get.

"Four, you're taller," Zeke shouts over the sound of the wind, "so you'll need to be the one who jumps. Don't go too high, but make sure you're both clear in one motion. Tris, just keep your feet out of his way. Once you're off the roof, gravity will do the rest."

My neck doesn't want to bend enough to nod, so I force my voice to work instead. "Got it."

Grinning, Zeke calls, "Okay, now this is the most important part…. Have fun!"

That's far from realistic for me, but Tris laughs in response as Zeke backs away to give us room.

This is it. It's up to me now. But for an eternity of frozen time, all I can do is stare at the buildings around us, trying to ignore my frantic heartbeat as I view this reverse image of the city – with the skyscrapers going down instead of up. I do _not_ want to do this. More than that, I _can't_ do this.

Before the panic can seize control, Tris grabs my hand, drawing my attention to her again. Somehow, her warmth reaches me even through our gloves, and I focus on that. Just that. Just her.

Leaning down, I press my cheek to hers. _"I love you, Tris."_

She turns her head enough to meet my lips, kissing me lightly before answering, "I love you, too." A smile ghosts across her face as she adds, "On three, okay?" The suggestion reminds me of when I took her into my fear landscape, and I nod as I did then. "One, two, _three_."

On the last count, she raises her feet clear of the roof, her weight pulling me forward, and my body responds automatically. I follow Zeke's instructions, jumping high enough for us to clear the roof, but staying low enough to avoid problems with the harness.

For a second, we're suspended over the city as we balance between the roof and the drop of the zip-line. And then we plunge.

My insides plummet, and my head swirls, and my heart is racing faster than I think it ever has, and panic makes my entire form go rigid as I squeeze my eyes shut as tightly as possible. All I want to do is scream at the top of my lungs to _stop stop STOP_. But we don't.

Above me, the metal clasp screeches against the line, and the wind is driving into me so hard I can't even feel the temperature anymore, and I'm pretty sure that the air is passing too fast to breathe – even if my lungs could remember how to function.

Beneath me, Tris spreads her arms as if she's a bird in flight, and abruptly I remember that she's there. Releasing her hand, I instead wrap both of my arms as tightly around her waist as they can go, holding her to me like a lifeline.

_She crows in delight._

The sound is so foreign to how I'm feeling that I can't begin to process it, but it holds my attention, and I try to let it, burying my face into her hair and ignoring the rest of the world. Her scent fills me there, and I'm finally able to breathe again, even if it is in rapid, panicked pants.

Tris draws her arms in, her hands squeezing mine before she pulls my grip a bit looser. It takes my adrenaline-addled brain a second to realize why – I'm crushing her.

"Sorry," I manage to grunt, but she just laughs in response, clearly not hurt. And suddenly I'm reminded of the first time we climbed to a frightening height together, somehow escaping injury even when it seemed most certain. The Ferris wheel.

The memory lightens the weight of my fear, and I turn my head enough to kiss her cheek, calling, "You are _definitely_ not human."

She immediately proves the point by shouting, "Hey! You down there! Look at us fly!" I shake my head, a chuckle somehow finding its way through me. It's not enough for her to enjoy looking down from here – she has to get people to look up, too.

"I love you, Tobias Eaton!" she screams next, even louder, and it pulls a deeper laugh from me. I'm not entirely sure how she's doing it, but she's calming me down. She's making this bearable.

So, this time, when she extends her arms like wings, I hesitantly do the same, reaching my arms out along the top of hers and clasping her hands tightly. I still keep my face pressed into her hair, with my eyes squeezed shut, but in this moment, I can almost feel as if we're flying together instead of falling to our deaths.

Another crow of joy tears from her throat, and the part of me that's focused purely on her manages to respond. It's not exactly a happy sound, but at least it's not a scream of terror.

Eventually, we begin to slow down, and I know we're near the end. Relief starts to work its way through me, and I open my eyes just enough to see the world through Tris' hair. It's probably just as well that I can't see the ground.

Painstakingly slowly, we come to a stop, hanging in the air twenty feet high. I finally dare to look down, seeing the group of Dauntless waiting below us, their arms pumping as they cheer for their former faction-mates.

A swirl of incredible relief and stunned disbelief swoops through me. Tris puts words to it, turning her head to look at me as she says, "We did it. We got through it."

It's another reminder of my fear landscape, and I can't help smiling as I answer the same way I did that day. " _You_ got me through it."

And it's true – I _never_ could have done this without her.

"Hey, drop already!" Henry shouts from below us, and I chuckle at the typical Dauntless impatience. He can't give me two minutes to savor this accomplishment….

But that's okay. Tris and I will have time to celebrate afterwards, and I'd _far_ rather do that alone with her than here and now.

"You ready?" I ask her.

"Of course."

My hands are barely shaking anymore as I tug on the release that Zeke showed me earlier, letting Tris drop into the waiting arms of the group below us. I don't watch, not quite wanting to see her in free-fall, even for that relatively short distance. But I know she landed safely when I hear her laugh.

"Your turn!" Henry calls, and I take a deep breath as I pull my own release cord. And for the very first time, I complete the ritual that so many Dauntless have before me, falling into the net of interlaced arms and trusting them with my life. I doubt I could have done it if Tris weren't among them.

My gaze finds her the moment my feet touch the ground, and a rush of exhilaration goes through me at the realization that she was right. _We did it._ Together, we conquered one of my greatest fears. Just like we did with one of hers.

Her eyes are blazing with the same passion and wild energy that are filling me, and she suddenly grabs the front of my coat, pulling us together as she presses her lips to mine. My arms don't hesitate to wrap around her, lifting her off the ground and deepening the kiss even more, completely ignoring the fact that we're surrounded by other people.

But they're Dauntless, so they cheer for us instead of being offended. And when we finally pull far enough apart, we shout back – the sounds of our exuberance and thanks joining with their catcalls and whoops. I've never felt more like a part of my second faction than right now, when I'm no longer a member of it.

Henry claps me on the back, grinning as he mouths something about Tris, and my mind and gaze both return to her with irresistible force. And suddenly I'm thinking about what I postponed until after today…about what I now feel like I can allow myself to do. With the thought comes every emotion and desire I've pushed back for the last few weeks, and I'm struck sharply by just how much I want her _._ In every possible way. _Now._

Judging by the expression on her face, she feels the same.

Grabbing her hand, I pull her toward home, both of us racing as fast as our legs can move. The adrenaline and want are like flames pulsing through my body, making every single part of me hyper-aware of Tris' presence beside me as we run.

We should be breathless by the time we crash into my apartment, but there seem to be no bounds to our energy. Our lips press together more and more urgently as we tug at each other's coats and gloves, kicking our shoes off and leaving a pile of discarded clothing behind us.

Tris' hands find their way under my shirt, feeling unbelievably good on my bare skin, and I practically growl in response. Grabbing the underside of her thighs, I lift her up and press her back against the wall, grinning as her legs wrap around my waist, just where I want them most.

It's a struggle not to rip off our remaining clothing right there, but something in me pushes back, telling the rest of me that I need to slow down. This will be our first time in over a year, and I need to make sure that every part of this works for Tris. More importantly, I need to make _very_ sure that she knows it's an act of love, not lust.

So, I force myself to go slowly, lowering my mouth to her neck and sucking and kissing my way across it with all the passion that's coursing through me. I'm rewarded by the moan that emerges from deep in her throat.

Working my way gradually lower, I kiss her ravens carefully, each in turn, nudging her shirt down with my mouth to reach the third. My eyes stop when I see the ink below that – a fourth raven along the line toward her heart.

"That one is for Anna," she murmurs, and I nod in understanding before kissing it, too. I suppose it should feel a little strange to think about her grandmother at a time like this, but I'm too lost in everything _Tris_ to care.

Instead, I pull back so I can meet my girlfriend's gaze, silently confirming that she wants to continue. Given our position, there's no way she can miss how much _I'd_ like to keep going, but this has to be her decision, too.

I'm relieved to see the desire – and trust – in her expression as she smiles, nodding just enough to make her answer clear. My response is simple – I move my chest back to give her room, unable to avoid staring as she pulls her shirt over her head, tossing it to the floor beside us. She hesitates for just a fraction of a second before doing the same with her bra.

For a very long moment, I forget how to breathe as my eyes take in every part of her. She looks _so good._

My entire body freezes when I see the ink right over her heart. A fifth raven.

"That one is for you, Tobias," she whispers, and my gaze shoots up to hers again. "You're my family, too."

The words reach all the way through me, pulling memories and hopes and horrors together in a fierce combination of pain and healing that pierces my own heart. I promised to be her family, so long ago when she thought she had none left. I meant it then, more than I could possibly have conveyed, but despite that, I broke the promise only a few weeks later. Completely and irrevocably…leaving it behind with her broken body.

I _never_ expected to have a second chance at that promise. But staring into her eyes now, I know she is giving me exactly that.

My entire body reacts, lifting her higher as my lips find the raven, and I kiss it with all the love that's overflowing from me in this moment. Her name escapes from me in some type of moan.

"Always," I pant against her skin. "Tris, I will _always_ be your family."

And suddenly, I can't wait any longer. My arms pull her to me as I swing away from the wall, crossing the room in two quick strides and dropping onto one knee on the mattress that still rests on the floor. The mattress where we first made love.

"Always," I tell her again before my lips return to hers, my arms wrapping around her slender body as I press her into the blankets.

"Always is good," she gasps, her hands moving up my back, pulling my shirt with them in a clear attempt to remove it. I sit up just far enough to yank it off, throwing it across the room before I return to Tris' embrace. We're pressing together skin against skin now, and it feels _incredible_.

"I like always," she adds, her voice a whimper of pleasure.

The statement draws another groan from me, and my fingers move to her jeans as hers reach to undo my belt. It takes far too long to get our remaining clothing off with our trembling hands, but when everything is finally out of the way, I find myself staring at her again.

"Beautiful," I whisper, unable to express the depth of how much I mean that. So, I try to show it with my actions instead, putting everything that I'm feeling into my lips as I slowly and sweetly kiss my way across her skin, savoring her taste and scent and softness as the ache inside me grows stronger and stronger.

By the time I move below her waist, I'm the hardest I've ever been, and my breathing is coming in ragged pants. In the excitement, I almost forget the condom, remembering at the last second to reach for the package that I picked up in Erudite a few weeks ago. Just in case.

It probably would have been better if I'd opened it in advance, since I'm much too eager and distracted to do it well now. My fingers fumble at the packaging for entirely too long before I finally manage to yank the plastic wrap off, tearing one of the individual packages loose and ripping the end of it off in a wild motion.

The momentum sends the contents flying through the air, curving elegantly up in a mesmerizing arc before falling back down – and landing directly on Tris' nose.

For a long moment, we're both completely still as the desire to laugh wars with the far more primal urges that are driving us forward. "I know it's been a while," Tris eventually says, dead-pan, "but isn't that supposed to go on you?"

My grin is barely suppressed as I reach over, plucking the condom off her nose. "Man, try something new and all you get are complaints."

She's giggling now, and I can't help chuckling in response as I run my free hand down her back, pulling her to me. Our foreheads rest together, the length of our bodies touching, as I kiss her again.

"Maybe _you_ should put it on me," I whisper.

She hesitates for only a second. "Okay." There's a smirk on her face as she takes it from me, evaluating it before unrolling it carefully where it actually belongs. My entire body arches in reaction, some type of hiss coming out of me at her touch. It makes her smile, whether in anticipation or because she enjoys eliciting that type of response, I don't know.

Either way, it's impossible to wait any longer, and I roll on top of her, holding her gaze intently as I push into her. "I love you, Tris." My voice is deep with emotion, and more than a little want, as my body moves in time to my words. "Truly. Deeply. _Always._ "

"I love you, too, Tobias." The words are barely more than gasps as she responds to my motion. It's the last coherent thing that either of us utters for quite a while.

* * *

I'm not sure how long it takes us to begin breathing normally again. We lie together, our limbs tangled and our skin slick with sweat, as Tris lightly traces the Kaizen faction symbol tattooed over my heart.

"That's a raven, isn't it?" she finally asks, her voice still deep with the after-effects of our activities.

The corners of my mouth lift into an easy smile. "It does look suspiciously like yours, doesn't it?" My index finger moves lightly over her fifth raven. "Like _mine_ ," I clarify, feeling the same leap of joy at the idea of that one representing me.

I shift a little so I can meet her eyes. "But yes, it is." My hand runs over her lower back, where she has a larger version of the same tattoo. "I don't think anyone else really got it, but this faction has always been about you, Tris."

She smiles, a slow, sweet smile. "Well, I'm glad I joined it, then."

"Yeah…." I let my body flop back onto the bed, my satiated muscles sinking deep into the mattress. "It would have been embarrassing if you'd gone somewhere else…."

* * *

  _ **A/N: Please take a moment to let me know what you thought of this chapter! Also, please check out my other stories. Thanks! And thank you to my wonderful beta reader, Rosalie!**_


	2. Prior Rings Ch 42 retold by Tobias – Letter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who was taken the time to review, favorite, and/or follow this story! I really appreciate the support. Thank you also to BarbaraK2U, who kindly beta-read this chapter for me.

**"** **Prior Rings" Chapter 42: Tobias – Letter**

It has been a _very_ long day – the type that makes me wonder why I keep working when I have the so-called "hero's pension" that would support me just fine if I didn't. Even my body is drained, and I can feel the strain in my back as I make my way up the stairs.

But my mood improves once our apartment door is in sight. The prospect of seeing Tris always has that effect. And the actual sight – as soon as I open our door – is even better.

"Hi," I murmur, letting myself relax for the first time all day as I move toward her. It's not until I'm leaning down, about to kiss her, that my tired brain registers how upset she looks. She backs away from me rapidly, her expression showing fury and misery in equal parts, and I find myself staring at her from three feet away.

"What's wrong?" I ask, more than a little startled. "What happened?"

For a second, she just glares, and then she spits, "Maybe you should ask _Nita_."

The words don't make sense to me. I can't think of anyone I know by that name, either at work or elsewhere, so I can't imagine what whoever-she-is might have done to make my wife this angry.

"Who's Nita?" It's an innocent question, but judging by Tris' expression, she doesn't agree.

" ** _Don't_** ," she snarls, clearly livid. "Don't deny it." She narrows her eyes at me before adding, "I found the letter."

That does nothing to clarify the situation, despite the way my tired brain is now racing to figure out what's happening. Tris seems to be accusing me of something beyond my comprehension.

"What letter?" I try warily.

Her response is _furious_. "Were there _so many_ that you have to ask?"

My confusion is growing by the second. "Tris…." I step toward her tentatively, reaching instinctively to touch her face. But she pulls away sharply, leaving me standing there with my hand hanging in the air.

Rocking on my heels, I stare at her, utterly unable to fathom what has happened. "Tris, please talk to me. _What_ is going on?"

She _scoffs_ , refusing to even look at me. "You know damned well!" This is getting old very fast.

"No," I tell her firmly, "I don't."

Apparently, my tone doesn't help, because she heads straight for the door, abandoning any attempt at discussion. It's fundamentally unfair, given I still have no clue what's bothering her, and I find myself stepping forward quickly, grabbing her arm to stop her.

She does stop, but definitely not in the way I would have preferred. Yanking herself free from my grip, she glares murderously at me as she yells, "Leave me the hell alone!"

For a long moment, the shout seems to echo through the air, freezing my entire body in a helpless mixture of hurt and anger and outright fear. I can't remember the last time I saw her this upset, and there's no doubt that it's directed solidly at me. But I don't know why.

"How about," I try again, needing her to at least _talk_ to me, "just for a moment, you _consider_ the _possibility_ that I have _absolutely no idea_ what you're talking about." I run a frustrated hand through my hair. "And you give me _some kind of explanation_."

"Fine," she snarls, finally meeting my eyes briefly. The level of rage in them is daunting. "I found the _love letter_ that you wrote to Nita."

My confusion is greater than ever, and it mixes with utter misery as tears begin sliding down her cheeks. Tris cries so rarely, and it rips my insides apart whenever she does.

"Is that enough explanation?" she manages to add.

All I can do is shake my head, opening my mouth and closing it again with no ability to respond. None of this makes any sense whatsoever, but clearly she's thoroughly convinced that I've done something I haven't.

"Tris," I eventually start, trying to figure out what words will reach her, "I don't even _know_ anyone named Nita. And I sure as hell haven't written any love letters – to whoever she is, or to anyone else."

It's a completely honest statement, but it's obvious that Tris doesn't believe me. "Then why was it in _our apartment_ ," she yells, "in _your writing_?"

The accusation is like a physical blow, pushing me a half-step away from her. My hands rise automatically in defense as I wrack my brain for any kind of reason why a letter I never wrote could possibly be in our home, in writing that incriminates me. But I can't think of any explanation at all.

"I don't know how it got here," I begin slowly, "or why you think it's my writing, but I guarantee it is not. I haven't handwritten a letter since the last one I wrote to _you_ , right after I returned Anna's ring. And I have _never_ written a love letter to anyone _except_ you."

My mind flits through all the letters that I wrote to her in support. I didn't mail them, of course, since that's not the reason we write them, but I spent countless hours telling her about my thoughts and my life – and my hopes and despairs.

Belatedly, it occurs to me that it must sound strange to mention those, since she's never seen them. "I didn't send them to you," I add quickly. "I wrote them and then destroyed them."

That must sound even stranger, and I stare at the floor, breathing hard as I try to come up with a better way of describing that approach – one that she'll hear in her current state of mind.

"It's something we do in support," I decide to say, "to help us put our feelings into words. We write to the people we wronged, and the ones who wronged us. We put it all in letter form, and then we destroy it as a way of trying to move on."

It's not until I say those words aloud that I suddenly understand. _I'm not the only one from group who has been in this apartment recently._

An enormous rush of relief goes through me as I glance at the desk where I had Dave empty his pockets when he came here for help that night. _Of course_ that must be where the letter came from – and who wrote it.

"It's Dave's," I tell Tris, almost giddy as all the tension drops from my muscles. "From when he came here last week, in the middle of the night…whichever night that was. It must be his."

My gaze finds Tris', hoping to see that she believes me, but it's apparent she's not there yet. She must have been completely convinced of my guilt, and she's never been good at recognizing when she's wrong. It's the problem with being right most of the time.

"I made him empty his pockets," I add, knowing that she needs more detail, "because he's from Dauntless. I assumed he had a knife or a gun, and he's still unstable enough to use them the wrong way. So, I had him dump everything on the desk." I step over to it, placing my hands on the corner for emphasis. "Right here."

I look at her again, desperately hoping that the letter was somewhere in that vicinity when she found it. If he dropped it somewhere else, I'm totally screwed.

"He must have missed the letter when he picked everything up afterwards," I finish, nodding as I say it. It must be true, after all. There's no other possible explanation.

Clearly, Tris doesn't agree. "It's still your handwriting," she growls.

"It is _not_ ," I snap back, feeling the hurt and anger more acutely now. It was one thing for her to reach the wrong conclusion when all the evidence pointed that way, but now she's hanging onto one false fact out of stubbornness. I've earned more trust than that.

"A lot of guys have similar handwriting," I say forcefully. "You're seeing what you expect to see, but that doesn't make it mine."

Tris crosses her arms over her chest, glaring at me fiercely, but I meet her gaze unflinchingly. I haven't done anything wrong, and I refuse to act as if I have.

We stay that way for a very long time before I realize that neither of us is going to budge. She's deeply imbedded in what she thinks happened, and nothing I can say will change that.

"Fine," I state coldly. "You don't believe me. So, let's go talk to Dave. Maybe you'll listen to _him_." I know my voice is bitter, but I have good reason to be.

Tris snaps back her response. "Yes, because he's going to tell a complete _stranger_ the truth instead of defending his _sponsor_ while you're standing _right there_?"

The comment would make me laugh if I weren't so angry. Dave has been nothing but a pain in the ass to sponsor so far. There's no way in hell he would help me out of _loyalty_. But Tris doesn't seem ready to believe anything I say tonight, so I don't bother mentioning that.

Instead, I snarl, "Do you have any _suggestions_ , then, Tris? Other than to assume I'm _guilty_ of something I _haven't done_?"

With that, we're back to our staring match, each trying to wait the other out. But I'm not going to back down, because I'm the one who's right here.

Eventually, Tris must start to wonder about that, because her tone is much quieter when she speaks again. "I'll talk to him by myself."

The words raise instant alarm through my entire being, my protectiveness pushing the anger aside. I don't care how much we're fighting – I'm not letting my wife get hurt.

"No," I tell her quickly. "Dave is too dangerous at this stage in the program. You shouldn't be alone with him."

She opens her mouth to protest, but then she closes it again, and I know that at least some part of her is listening. I take advantage of that to press my case.

"What if Kevin goes with you?" It's a desperate offering, but it's the only one I can think of.

Fortunately, Tris accepts it. "Fine," she snarls.

* * *

We're silent as I lead the way to Kevin's apartment through the crowd of people heading home after work. We walk a good two feet apart from each other, staring straight ahead. My stomach is twisted into too many knots for me to do anything else.

It certainly doesn't help that my sponsor lives in _Erudite_ , of all places. I've passed through that faction so many times over the years that I should be used to it by now, but today as I march through its doors, I can't help but think of all the bad associations I have with this building.

The reminders grow even stronger as we walk the long hallways, and I try to fight the memories that flood my mind. Images of Tris walking these corridors, looking weak and barely alive as Peter forced her forward. Thoughts of the torture I endured here. And worst of all, the memory of when I thought Tris was being executed.

We're not even in the same part of the building, but we might as well be. It looks too similar to bear.

It quickly becomes obvious that I'm not the only one who thinks so. We're only halfway to Kevin's apartment when Tris freezes abruptly, her eyes fixed on a door that must remind her of some terrible experience here. Her breathing is rapid, and her hands are clenched into fists, and I'm not sure if she's aware of my presence anymore as full-fledged panic overtakes her.

In that moment, I don't care about our argument anymore. It doesn't matter if she believes me or not. We're back in the war, and the only priority my brain can possibly fathom is to be there for her.

I move closer, taking her by the shoulders and crouching slightly so my face is directly in front of hers and is blocking out anything else.

"Tris, listen to me." My tone is commanding – my Four voice. "I've got you. You're safe. I'm not going to let _anyone_ hurt you. Do you understand? I don't give a damn what you think I've done. I love _you_ and _only_ you, and I will _always_ keep you safe."

It doesn't do any good. Her breathing is still far too rapid, and her heartbeat practically echoes through the corridor, and I don't think she even hears me. She needs to be away from here.

Shifting my grip to her arm, I haul her forcibly back the way we came. Honestly, I'm tempted to just carry her, but that might make things worse – might trigger memories of other attacks she endured.

So, I lead her into the nearest stairway, pressing her against the wall as I stand directly in front of her again.

"Tris. Tris, listen to me." My hand cups her chin and lifts it, forcing her to look at me. "You're safe. Do you understand me? You are _not_ a prisoner. You are _not_ being attacked. No one is going to hurt you."

I grab her shoulders again. "The war with Erudite is over. Jeanine is dead. Caleb is okay now, and so are we. It's all right, Tris. You're safe. You're safe."

She's breathing harshly now, dragging air in and out of her lungs as she stares at me wide-eyed. But there's a glimmer of connection there, and I know that some part of her hears me.

"Tris, I will _never_ let something like that happen to you again. Ever. You are my _wife_ , and I love you, and you are _safe_. Please believe me."

Slowly, her eyes start to focus again, and for a long moment, she stares at me with recognition. And then she shoves me away from her, hard.

" _Don't touch me_ ," she snaps.

The phrase sears through me like a whip, painfully knocking the air out of my lungs. How can she possibly be focused on that _lie_ right now?

"Tris, I have _never_ cheated on you. _Ever._ " I glare at her, furious with her obstinacy. "You're hurting both of us for no reason."

"I guess we'll see" she hisses back, and I know she's beyond listening. Shaking my head, I turn away from her, leading the way up the stairs.

"We'll take a different route there," I tell her over my shoulder.

It's difficult to reach Kevin's apartment without passing through hallways that look like _those_ , but I do my best, taking us on a very circuitous route until we finally get there. Stopping outside his door, I gesture Tris toward it, unable to bring myself to look at her.

"I'll wait out here," I tell her firmly, "so I don't _bias_ Kevin into believing me."

She nods stiffly, raising her hand to knock, before it occurs to me to add, "Tell him about the letter. He needs to prepare for Dave's reaction."

It's true. Kevin needs to know what he's walking into. Dave is unpredictable and could easily go after Tris when he learns that she read his letter. Kevin has to be prepared to handle that situation.

At least she sees the reason behind that. "Fine," she mutters resignedly. "Come in with me, so you can make sure I don't leave out anything he needs to know." Her tone turns sharper. "But otherwise, let me do the talking."

It's certainly not the most unreasonable request she's made tonight, so I simply shrug, lifting my own hand and knocking loudly in the pattern I typically use.

My sponsor answers the door promptly, as he always does. He has never failed to be there for me when I needed him, and in this moment, I appreciate that more than ever. I don't, however, say so. Instead, I brush past him, walking quickly through the apartment and into the kitchen to give them the privacy I promised.

"Come in, Tris," I hear Kevin comment behind me. There's no mistaking the confusion in his voice.

I hear them moving across the living room and sitting down. They're silent for a while after that, but eventually Tris must show him the letter, because she says, "I found that in our apartment. It's in Tobias' writing."

"It is _not_ ," I snap before I can stop myself, looking out at them through the opening from the kitchen. It's impossible to let that go unchallenged.

Tris glares at me before returning her attention to Kevin. His response is soft enough that it's difficult to hear. "Well, if you wanted a handwriting analysis, I assume you'd go to your brother or to Cara, since you know them both a lot better than me. Which means you're presumably here for a second opinion about whether this sounds like Tobias?"

It's not why we're here, of course, and I expect Tris to admit that, but apparently she doesn't, because he continues. "Honestly, it doesn't seem like something he'd write, even disregarding who it's addressed to." The validation eases some of the ache that's been pressing into my chest.

"It's pretty typical stuff for someone in support," he adds. "Half the group might have written it. But even at his worst, Tobias didn't sound like this – he's always tended to blame himself more than this shows." I don't entirely know what to make of that comment.

His deep voice rumbles on. "And I've got to tell you…I can't imagine him cheating on you. I've seen a lot of shit in my life, and done plenty of it, too. So, I know this type of thing happens. But for what it's worth, Tobias just doesn't seem the type. So, I'd like to hear his side of things."

It's incredibly reassuring to hear Kevin support me this way, and I almost state my case right then. But something stops me. I guess I want to hear what Tris has to say – to make her process the perspective that she's refusing to see.

So, I just watch her, hoping desperately that she'll see the truth.

It takes her a while, but eventually, she tells him, "He said that Dave must have left it there. That's his new sponsee."

"I know," Kevin responds. There's a pause while he must be reevaluating the letter. "It could be his, but I can't honestly say I know him well enough to judge. I don't recognize the name, either, but that doesn't mean much. Dave is Dauntless, so he has plenty of exes."

He makes a movement, probably handing the letter back to Tris, before he leans back the way he often does when he's thinking. "Clearly, you're having trouble accepting this," he comments to Tris, "so I'm guessing that you want to go talk to Dave, but your husband doesn't want you going alone?"

Kevin certainly does know me well…. Through the opening, I see Tris nod, and Kevin rises to his feet. "Okay. All you had to do was ask."

* * *

The train ride to Dauntless is torturously slow. My mind keeps going through every time I've ever ridden this line with Tris, both good and bad. But given the current situation, I suppose it's not surprising that I dwell on the trips we took during the war. I was so afraid then that I would lose Tris, and I almost did more times than I want to count.

It doesn't help to think that it could happen today, even if in a different way. She's so damned stubborn sometimes. If Dave denies that the letter is his, for whatever reasons, there's no way of knowing how she'll react.

The fundamental injustice of it _hurts_. I haven't even done anything wrong.

Kevin tries to comfort me once during the ride, patting my shoulder and giving me a sympathetic look. But it's too much like pity, and I shy away from him instinctively. Besides, there's only one person I want touching me right now, and that's clearly not going to happen anytime soon. So, I stand by myself, trying to ignore the stinging in my eyes through the long trip.

They follow me through the cold hallways of Dauntless in silence, until I finally stop outside Dave's apartment. Gesturing to the door, I mutter, "That one."

They both step forward, but I catch Kevin's gaze briefly before he has a chance to knock. I know I can't go in there with them – that wouldn't help this situation. But no matter how upset I am about all of this, there's still a more important priority than proving my innocence. _She's_ always more important to me than anything else.

"Don't let Dave hurt her," I plead.

"You know I won't." His voice is strong.

I nod, unable to resist turning to Tris. She looks startled, as if she didn't expect me to dare face her. It adds to my frustration and helplessness, and suddenly I know what I need to do while I wait. I need to go to the first place I ever felt powerful.

"I'll be at the practice range, shooting, when you figure out I'm not a lying scumbag." I don't wait for her reaction, instead turning on my heel and walking away. She doesn't call after me.

The gun range is just like it was the last time I was here, which is not particularly surprising. The Dauntless are attached to their traditions, so despite how much the rest of the city has changed, they tend to leave things as they've always been whenever possible.

No one else is here, but the supplies are all available, so I collect a gun and ammunition and set up the targets, deciding on a mix of circular ones and man-shaped ones. Out of some old habit, I set up every station as if I'm expecting a group of initiates to arrive. Or maybe part of me wants to practice some moving shots. It's hard to say.

I load the gun slowly, in careful motions, in order to focus my thoughts. And then I face the first target, staring at it briefly before firing through its heart. It seems like an appropriate choice, given how ripped up my own chest feels right now, and I stay there, aiming shot after shot into the same hole. It's been a few years since I last fired a weapon, but my aim is still good.

The smell of the metal gradually permeates my thoughts, reminding me of other days in this faction. I remember Amar teaching me to shoot, and how I, in turn, taught others. I taught Tris twice, really: once here and once in what is now the Kaizen faction, when she needed to get over her fear of handling guns after killing Will.

We've gotten through so much over the years. I just don't understand how she could trust me so little today. How she could think that I would _ever_ cheat on her…. I truly can't imagine the concept.

Kevin's words drift through my head, that I'm not the type to cheat. I never would have been, I suspect, even if I didn't love Tris as much as I do. I associate everything about the act with losing my mother. Her death may have turned out to be a lie, but the feeling remained.

The paper sways from my latest shot, and I fire again before it stops moving, letting the motion provide extra challenge. It doesn't keep me from noticing when Tris enters the room. It's not that I actually see her or hear her as she slips in quietly – I just _know_ that she's there, the way I always do. She's the person I'm most aware of in this world.

But I refuse to look as she walks slowly toward me, choosing instead to continue firing through the heart of my target. She should be the one to start this conversation.

And she does, even if her words are barely audible.

"I'm sorry, Tobias."

It's what I wanted to hear, I guess, but suddenly it's not enough. I don't just want her to regret this day. She _needs_ to understand, to make sure this never happens again.

Slowly, I lower my gun, though I continue facing the target. I can't say this while looking at her.

"I spent eight years thinking that my mother was dead." My voice is hoarse. "That whole time, I was sure that Marcus had killed her for having an affair." Tris stays completely silent. "Even after I learned she was alive, I still thought that she'd left me to be with _him_. With whoever the 'other man' was."

Swallowing hard, I force myself to turn toward Tris, despite how much harder that makes this part. She needs to know how difficult this whole subject is for me.

"When I say that I would never cheat on you, I _mean it_. I could never even _consider_ it after that." I shake my head a little. "Frankly, I'd be much more likely to hit you again, and you _know_ what kind of lengths I've gone to to make sure _that_ never happens."

She stares at me speechlessly, and I stare back for a long moment before I face the target again, resuming my practice. I've said what I need to; the next step is up to her.

It takes several minutes for her to decide what to do, but eventually I hear a second gun firing. Tris is standing two targets down, shooting at a circular bulls-eye. Part of me is tempted to watch her, maybe out of some old instructor instinct or maybe to see if she's all right, but I don't.

At least, I don't until she abandons the activity. But when she staggers to the table and drops her gun on it, I can't resist any longer. My gaze hangs on her as she grips the edge of the table tightly, her body shaking with quiet sobs.

The sight extinguishes my anger like nothing else possibly could. My _wife_ is crying – nothing matters more than that.

My feet move to the table on their own, and I drop my gun next to hers before grasping her shoulders and turning her toward me. And then I'm doing what I've wanted to do for hours – I'm pulling her against my chest and holding her tightly.

She hangs onto me just as desperately, pressing her face against my chest as she cries into my shirt. The action releases something inside me, and I bury myself in her hair, letting my own hurt run down my cheeks. This has been an utterly horrible day.

"I'm sorry, Tobias," she gasps between sobs. "I'm so, so sorry." The words act as a balm to my damaged heart, and I hold her close, stroking her hair as she repeats them over and over.

"I should have trusted you," she adds, rocking back and forth in my arms now, too anxious to hold still. "I should have known you wouldn't do that…. It's just…." A hiccup emerges, interrupting her sentence. "When I read it, I formed this image in my head. Of you and… _her_." The thought makes me stiffen, repulsed by even the idea of being with someone else that way.

"And I couldn't get it out," she continues, her voice breaking. "No matter what you said, or how much sense it made, I just couldn't erase that image. And I couldn't think past it."

My breathing catches because I know that reality all too well. It took years for me to stop occasionally picturing Uriah kissing Tris. It wasn't about trusting her, really, because I believed her when she said she didn't return his feelings, and she has clearly and repeatedly chosen me. But part of me has always felt like I don't deserve her, and that someday she'll realize she should be with someone better. That image hit all of those insecurities.

Today must have had the same effect on Tris, and it's difficult to truly blame her for that. If I'd found a letter to some guy in our private space in writing that looked like hers, I can't say I'd have reacted any better.

"I can kind of understand that," I finally murmur, stroking her hair again, gently. Her scent is working its way into me, calming me. "It took me a… _very_ long time to stop thinking about Uriah kissing you. An embarrassingly long time."

Some type of strangled laugh comes out of her, and I pull back far enough to meet her gaze. Her eyes are very red.

"I don't want to be mad anymore," I tell her softly, kissing the top of her head. A wry half-smile forms on my face. "Besides, you've forgiven me for worse things than a false accusation. So, I guess I owe you this one."

To my surprise, she shakes her head. "That's not how it works, Tobias. I _forgave_ you – that means I can't hold it over you anymore. You don't _owe_ me anything."

For a long moment, I have no idea how to respond. I've always struggled with forgiveness, so I never truly understood how fully she meant that pardon. It's more than a little moving.

Caressing her cheek lightly, I whisper back, "Then, I'll just have to forgive you, too."

She swallows, blinking away tears, and any trace of animosity I might have had left disappears.

"I love you, Tobias," she murmurs. "So much." It's what I've most wanted to hear all day, and a trace of pure joy ignites within me as I lean down to claim her lips. It's a long, tender kiss that heals my insides.

"I love you, too." Resting my forehead on hers, I breathe her air and just soak in her closeness, taking comfort from being with my wife.

It's hard to say when we finally move, but eventually, we begin cleaning the room, preparing to head home. We're not members of this faction anymore, and I don't want to cause trouble by leaving a mess behind that could lead to complaints in front of the city government. My mother wouldn't exactly appreciate it.

But it gets harder to focus the more time we spend cleaning. It's always distracting to be near Tris, but it's considerably worse right now. My eyes fixate on her, watching the curves of her backside whenever she leans over to pick up a bullet casing, and enjoying the hints of cleavage I see when she's facing me as she does that.

By the time we get to the final area, and my fingers are brushing against hers, my breathing is uneven and my pants are definitely too tight. Leaning close to her, I let my lips touch her ear as I whisper, "You know, Zeke is always talking about how good make-up sex is."

She looks up sharply, pulling back somewhat in the process as her face flushes instantly. But she seems to get past her embarrassment quickly, and she smiles as our eyes linger on each other. "Christina says the same thing." She moves close again. "I think we should find out if they're right."

There is no way _not_ to grin at that. "How quickly do you think we can get home?" I manage to ask, even though I'm not entirely sure I can walk with the stiffness between my legs.

Maybe Tris isn't sure, either, because she glances around before saying something I _never_ expected to hear from her. "That door has a lock, Tobias, if you know where the key is."

My eyes widen as I realize what she's suggesting. And while the Abnegation part of me thinks that we should wait patiently until we get home, that idea gets no support whatsoever from the rest of me. I _want_ Tris. Right now.

My eyes move to the supply closet, to where I know the extra key is hanging, as I answer her. "I do."

* * *

I'm fairly certain that I break a speed record getting to the men's room and back to collect a condom, since I stopped carrying them when Tris and I moved in together. I'm almost as fast at disabling the cameras – whoever is on duty in the control room will send someone down eventually, but we'll have enough time first.

And then I'm standing between my wife's legs as she perches on the table, her fingers grasping at my head and neck while my own tug her hips closer to where I want them most. There's an intensity to every touch that makes it difficult to breathe right now. I'm not sure how much is because of our argument and how much is related to our location, but it's an incredible sensation either way.

We don't undress entirely, unable to wait that long, but our hands roam freely under each other's shirts as our lower regions find each other. And for whatever reasons, I talk this time. A lot more than usual.

"Only with you, Tris," I pant against her skin, my words coming with my breaths as I move in and out of her. "You're the only one I want this way."

Her grasp tightens, an appreciative moan coming from deep in her throat, and it spurs me on. "You're the only one I've been inside. The only one I've kissed. The only one I love. It's only _ever_ been you, Tris."

"I used to think about this," I add, "when we were here. Not in this room, usually, but…I had _such_ dirty dreams about you." My voice is low and guttural. "About being with you. It was hard to look you in the eye after some of them."

It's not an admission I've made before, but judging by the way she's smirking against my temple, she doesn't object. It makes me thrust harder, just remembering some of the images my teenaged brain came up with.

"I had quite a few daydreams like that myself," she says, surprising me. Her voice is as throaty and uneven as mine, hitching with my movements as pleasure courses through both of us. "The whole year we were apart…." She manages some type of chuckle that's partly a moan. "It's a good thing I had my own room."

The words reach spots in me that I didn't know exist, somehow making me even harder inside her. Her lips suck at the corner of my jaw, muffling her voice as she continues. "It wasn't very Abnegation of me, but I would…let my fingers wander while I'd think about you."

I pull back enough to stare at her, my eyes wide with disbelief as I pause in my motions for several speechless seconds. It's not until I see the worry on her face that I realize she's misinterpreting my silence.

"You have _no_ idea what a turn-on that is, Tris." My hips buck forward on their own, proving my point. "The idea that you…." I can't even finish the sentence, but my eyes move down to the subject of our discussion. "While picturing me."

My hands shift so they're under her, lifting her and holding her closer to let me deepen my thrusts. "That is my new favorite thing to imagine," I pant. It makes her grin.

"Though this might be a close second," I add, finding an angle that makes her moan deeply. "I certainly never thought that I'd do this here. In this room, or even in this faction after we left."

Her response is difficult to understand, as her muscles are tightening around me with her buildup, but the words don't really matter right now. I love the incoherent sounds that indicate she's getting close to her release, and I love knowing that _I'm_ the one bringing her that pleasure. I will _never_ get tired of that.

So, I watch her as she lets her head fall backwards, her whole body arching against me while her face contorts with ecstasy. It's an incredible sight, and normally it would be more than enough to push me over the edge, too, particularly given how intense the ache to do so is right now. But today I want more.

Today, I want to feel this again and again as many times as we can get away with in this room. So, I find a way to ride it out, meeting her gaze afterwards before resuming my motions, slower now as we start the cycle of her next buildup.

Her eyes are dark, filled with the aftermath of her pleasure, and they arouse sensations in me that are way beyond words. I stare into them as I bring her to her second peak and even her third before I finally let myself join her. It's one of the most amazing experiences of my life.

__

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew, that was a long one! Anyway, please let me know what you thought of this chapter. I always appreciate reviews very, very much!


	3. Tris: Exploration

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who has reviewed this story and any of my other stories! Thank you also to my wonderful beta reader, Rosalie! This chapter is very short, but it was fun to write anyway. I hope you enjoy it!

**Between Chapters 44 and 45 of "Determinant" – Tris: Exploration**

It's certainly not unusual for me to dream about Tobias. We've been apart for three months, but he still fills my head as much at night as he does during the day.

It's not even unusual for the dreams to be sensual. If I can't really have his hands tracing over every part of me, and his lips on mine, and his body pressed hard against me, I can at least remember. And imagine.

So, when I wake up slowly, a tingling sensation running along every inch of my skin and an echo of pleasure still rippling through me, it doesn't seem particularly strange. But what _is_ different is how long the feeling lasts.

I stretch luxuriously, enjoying the after-effects even as I find myself wanting more. _God, I miss him._

My hands move slowly down my sides, and I find myself thinking distinctly non-Abnegation thoughts…. If I close my eyes, maybe I can pretend he's here.

Technically, this wouldn't be the first time I've touched myself. Back in sex ed at school, we were divided by both gender and faction, so a teacher could address each group's individual needs. And what they had to say to the Abnegation girls was rather enlightening.

"You have to decide for yourselves," I remember our teacher saying, "which is more selfless. You can let your first time occur naturally, knowing that it will be somewhat painful – and that your husband might feel guilty for inflicting that pain. Or you can prepare yourself in advance, by stretching your body gradually with your own fingers and whatever else you choose to use – but that might give you pleasure that your faction would call selfish."

She went on to describe to the mortified class all of the ways we could "prepare" ourselves, using a gradually larger number of fingers or anything else of a suitable size that was clean and available. Susan turned beet red when the teacher started giving specific examples of which fresh produce worked best.

The approach was a good example of Erudite trying to understand another faction – both missing wildly and somewhat succeeding.

Afterwards, I spent a great deal of time thinking about which option was most Abnegation, which one I preferred, and if I cared whether or not the two matched. And ultimately, I explored a little before deciding that the level of pleasure I was getting was _definitely_ not appropriate for my faction of birth.

In retrospect, I wish I had continued anyway. Maybe it would have relieved Tobias' guilt a little if he hadn't hurt me our first time. I'm not a fool – I know it wouldn't have kept him from leaving the way he did – but maybe it would have made _some_ difference. Enough for him to contact me again.

My hand slips lower, sliding along my sensitive areas as I remember that first time with him, and think about how it might have gone differently. It could have been like our second time, I suppose, which was far more pleasant. He ran his own fingers along me then, breathing in my scent the way I always loved his. He was fighting his claustrophobia that time, but it seemed to vanish when he reached inside me, exploring with obvious desire.

I move my own fingers the way he did, trying to achieve the same effect, but they're too short and are at the wrong angle. And they certainly aren't a substitute for his _other_ body parts. But they're all I have, so I do my best, rubbing and circling and thrusting and generally experimenting with every type of sensation I can create while I imagine Tobias penetrating my body in much better ways.

It takes a lot longer than it did with him, but eventually I achieve some level of satisfaction, whimpering his name as my climax overtakes me.

It's better than nothing, I suppose, but as I shower afterwards, I can't help but think about the produce the kitchen has this time of year. Maybe there are some choices around this place after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know if I'll be adding more to this story or not. I'm writing mostly in third-person, past-tense these days, which I've never used for my "Determinant" related fics. If I were to write some chapters in that POV, would you be interested in reading them? If so, please let me know in a review. Thanks!
> 
> P.S. In case you missed it, I posted a new story last week under this account. Please check it out. :-)


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